


i'll be your quiet afternoon crush (be your violent overnight rush)

by jangjoos



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, background ravnwoong, cameos from ateez :D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-23 19:26:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20199325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jangjoos/pseuds/jangjoos
Summary: In which Seoho and Geonhak are friends with benefits. They catch feelings for each other. Of course, in typical fanfiction fashion, neither of them realize this.





	i'll be your quiet afternoon crush (be your violent overnight rush)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [i'll be your quiet afternoon crush (be your violent overnight rush)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25075282) by [miratuck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miratuck/pseuds/miratuck)

Seoho's eyes flutter awake. To his dismay, they meet sunlight. 

Next to him, he hears Geonhak snoring. He snores loudly, but more importantly, Geonhak's arms are around him and he's snuggled up close. Shit. They’re at Geonhak’s place and Seoho had, apparently, stayed the night. Also, was he the fucking little spoon?

Seoho shoots to his feet as quickly as he can, pulling on a hoodie and a pair of sweats. Whether they’re his own or Geonhak's, it's unclear. He doesn't pay it any mind.

“Morning, sunshine,” Geonhak lulls, groggily raising his head.

Seoho paces around the room. "Why the fuck didn’t you kick me out? Fuck, where's my phone, I’m already late for my lecture--"

Geonhak pulls all the blankets closer to himself. "If you're already late, why don't you just skip it?" He reaches for Seoho with one hand. "Come oooon, stay with me."

"It's important, Geonhak. Midterms are coming up. I can't just miss a fucking lecture."

“I love you too,” Geonhak slurs, and something stops in Seoho’s chest.

“Yeah. I really have to go.”

On his way out of the apartment, he passes a very disgruntled looking Youngjo in the kitchen. He runs off before Youngjo could start his lecture on using protection or whatever. 

Like many stressful days, yesterday had begun with endless hours of studying and plenty of tears, ending surreptitiously with Seoho in Geonhak's bed. It's almost unintentional at this point, the way it always just happens like that. But what could Seoho say? The man fucks like a dream. He hadn't, however, intended to stay the night and _ miss his goddamn alarm and possibly his lecture too. _

Thankfully, the lecture hall is close by. Seoho enters the room. All eyes are on him, but Professor Park doesn’t as much as spare him a glance. He ignores them, taking his usual spot next to Keonhee. Keonhee takes one look at him and shakes his head. It turns out that the mystery clothes Seoho took from the floor were, in fact, Geonhak’s. Seoho feels the intense urge to sink into the ground.

"I would ask where you were, but--"

"No talking in class," Seoho snaps, opening up his laptop. It takes him a full minute to scramble for his notes.

Not a few seconds later, Seoho gets a notification on his phone. He groans when he sees that it's from Keonhee.

🐸: ha this isnt talking

🐸: now spill

🐿️: it's rude to have your phone out too

🐸: like you ever care mr. smiles-at-his-screen-24/7

🐸: and i suppose its because youve been texting you-know-who?

🐿️: ok FINE

🐿️: yes, i was just at geonhak’s. is that what you wanted to know?

"Oh my god," Keonhee mutters next to him, and Seoho rolls his eyes.

🐸: oh my god

🐿️: ,,,did u really have to say it twice

🐸: im sorry its just

🐸: how many times has it been now?

"Just three," Seoho says under his breath, hoping to god that Keonhee doesn't hear him. He does.

“How romantic,” Keonhee coos. The person behind them shushes them harshly, and Seoho shoots them an apologetic glance.

🐿️: for the last time, geoni, we aren’t dating.

🐿️: we’re just. friends with benefits?

🐸: ohhhh

🐸: damn those must be some good benefits. ur literally making heart eyes at your phone all the time 😏

Seoho rolls his eyes. 

After a very draining day of classes, Seoho-- quite literally-- runs into Geonhak at the coffee place. He almost makes Geonhak spill his strawberry frappe all over his shirt-- which would have been unfortunate, considering the fact that he is wearing Seoho’s shirt. Seoho wonders why Geonhak didn’t just grab one of his own shirts. It was _ his _place?

"Hey, Seoho." Geonhak eyes him from head to toe. "I was wondering where that hoodie went."

"Didn't realize it was yours when I put it on.” Seoho giggles and tugs one of the strings. “It's kinda big on me, don’t you think?"

"It's cute," Geonhak tells him, and Seoho's heart stops for a moment.

"So. Are you free right now? Wanna come hang out?" Geonhak leans in with a smirk. “I have. Monopoly. At my place.

Seoho knows full well that Geonhak does not, in fact, have Monopoly at his place. The only board game he has is chess because he’s lame. 

* * *

They kiss just after stumbling in through the door, Seoho straddling Geonhak’s shoulders and Geonhak driving Seoho up against a wall. It’s like it’s never a conscious decision. They just kind of end up like this. 

They’re the only ones here. It’s not a strange occurrence. For some reason, Youngjo’s been out a lot these days. Seoho pays it no heed.

Geonhak steps away and stares intently into Seoho’s eyes.

“Stressed?” He says. Sometimes, he does this _ thing _where it’s like he’s trying to fight back a smile, and he mostly succeeds, but a tiny bit of it leaks out of the edges of his mouth. It’s adorable, makes Seoho grin back like an absolute idiot.

And he just can’t resist it. Seoho leans in and pecks the corner of Geonhak’s lips. Geonhak blinks, bewildered.

“Why?” Seoho asks, looking up slyly. “Do I look stressed?”

Geonhak likes to think he’s confident, likes to think he’s the type to take action. That’s hardly ever the case. While he’s outwardly bold, seems tough at first glance, it isn’t at all difficult to reduce him into a blushing, stuttering mess.

“I--” 

See? Seoho’s done it already.

“You what?” 

“You get bossy when you’re stressed,” Geonhak says in a small voice. “It’s kind of hot.”

Seoho’s grin widens. He leans in again; this time, it’s a _ kiss _, it’s filthy and deep. It’s like drowning, Seoho breathes Geonhak in and slowly feels himself run out of air. By the time they part, they’re both gasping. 

“So, you like being bossed around?” Seoho runs his knuckles along Geonhak’s cheek and cups his chin.

Geonhak leans into his touch, and Seoho takes it as a yes. He smiles.

“Get the lights, baby.”

* * *

They didn’t have long. It’s Youngjo and Geonhak’s turn to host game night, so the others would be coming by very soon. Still, they made the most of their time.

Seoho’s the little spoon again. He can’t say he isn’t embarrassed, but Geonhak’s arms feel safe. Comfortable. He could get used to this.

“Come on,” he tells Geonhak. “Keonhee always likes to show up early. We have to get up.”

“Hnnnrgh.”

“We’ll never hear the end of it from him if we don’t.”

Reluctantly, Geonhak rolls over, allowing Seoho to get out, but he’s still stuck to the bed. 

As someone who’s lived with Hwanwoong for the better part of his uni life, you’d think Seoho would be an expert at waking up the stubborn, but that’s apparently not the case. It’s like Geonhak’s been attached to the mattress with super glue.

“Come onnn,” Seoho says, attempting to shove Geonhak off. He doesn’t budge. Muscle fool.

Eventually, Seoho gets Geonhak dressed. He’s still lethargic, still barely responsive, but it’s progress. 

Seoho knows this apartment like it’s his own. It isn’t as much of a mess as his and Hwanwoong’s, but it still appears lived in, unlike Keonhee and Dongju’s. Their room constantly feels like a showhome or a hotel after room service. Always spotless, always uncomfortably clean. On the other hand, Geonhak and Youngjo’s place looks-- lived in. There’s a couple of jackets strewn on the couch, a row of healthy-looking plants along one side of the living room. There is a single fork lying in the sink.

Not long after, Keonhee’s the first to arrive, case of beer in hand. He takes one look at the both of them and almost immediately spots the bandaid on Geonhak’s neck. 

“Really?” He says, raising an eyebrow. “Again, you guys?”

“None of your business,” Seoho tells him cheerfully. Geonhak looks away.

It doesn’t take long for the rest of them to show up. Youngjo arrives with Hwanwoong, not bothering to knock as he’s entering his own apartment. Shortly thereafter, Dongju also arrives, carrying about a dozen board games and a pack of juice boxes.

“Is that Monopoly _ junior _?” Geonhak asks, holding back a laugh.

Dongju glares at him. “It’s the only version between the six of us.”

In the living room, Hwanwoong’s trying to hide from a very affectionate and very persistent Youngjo. Keonhee’s making a mess of the kitchen. When Seoho’s sure that nobody’s looking, he takes Geonhak’s hand, stifling a smile on his face.

They’re a very odd and mismatched group of people. As far as Seoho knows, Geonhak and Youngjo have known each other for the longest, having been friends since high school and roommates since freshman year. Many of Keonhee and Seoho’s classes have always overlapped, and they’ve become good friends as a result. Hwanwoong and Dongju shared a lunch block. 

About a year ago, the six of them all got stuck on a broken elevator in their current building. They’ve been inseparable ever since, although it’s often hard to get them all in one place, save for evening hours on the group chat. Thus, game night was made to serve as a remedy.

Seoho clasps his hands together. Everyone looks up.

“Alright. Let’s get started. Who’s up for Jenga?”

* * *

Geonhak frowns. “I _ would _take this piece, but it’ll give Seoho a hard time.”

The tower is holding on by a literal thread, tilting heavily in Keonhee’s direction. One level is being held by a single block, and only two levels have been left fully intact.

Youngjo pours the rest of his beer bottle into Hwanwoong’s cup. 

“Aw,” he says, batting his eyelashes. “That’s so cute. Aren’t you a gentleman.”

Hwanwoong snickers, leaning into Youngjo a bit. “Imagine losing Jenga for your boyfriend.”

“We’re not dating,” Seoho and Geonhak say at the same time, to which Dongju raises his eyebrows. Geonhak clears his throat.

“Seoho is just. My special friend. With whom I do special activities,” he clarifies. Seoho resists the urge to smash his head in.

Dongju snorts. “You sound exactly like my doctor. _ ‘Do you have any special friends?’ _” 

Keonhee puts his arm around Dongju’s shoulders. “You can just say you’re fucking, you know. Nobody’s gonna judge you.”

“Except Hwanwoong,” Youngjo pipes up. 

That’s true. Hwanwoong judges everyone. He scowls at Seoho, then at Geonhak.

“You guys may wanna do your special activities a bit quieter. You do know that everyone in the building can hear you, right?”

Neither Seoho nor Geonhak deigns that with a comment. When Seoho takes his piece, the tower is at the very edge of being tipped over. Thankfully, it doesn’t.

Youngjo ends up taking the last piece. The tower falls with a thud, blocks scatter all over the coffee table. He cries.

They play a round of Monopoly Junior after that. Dongju manages to collect all the railways, much to Hwanwoong’s dismay. Keonhee’s the first one to go bankrupt. Seoho basically lives in jail. Geonhak does not quite know how to play the game and it costs him his entire fortune, as Dongju scams him out of all his money. Eventually, contrary to everyone else’s expectations, Youngjo ends up winning. Life is wild.

Game night stretches into the wee hours of the morning. By the time Seoho and Hwanwoong head home, the moon’s almost begun to set, and there’s even a bit of light in the sky. It’s whatever. Not like they need to sleep or anything.

* * *

“You know,” Hwanwoong says once they’re outside their apartment’s door. “For being fuck buddies, it’s kind of weird that you and Geonhak are exclusive.”

Seoho wrinkles his nose as he sticks his key into the door. The lock opens with a click.

“Who says we’re exclusive? I can sleep with anyone I want. He can sleep with anyone he wants. We’ve discussed this.”

Hwanwoong tsks. “Why haven’t you, then?”

“We’re.” Seoho hesitates. In his silence, the door opens, they both step inside.

“We’re busy,” he concludes. “We don’t have time for other people. And he’s usually close by. So.”

And that’s true. Seoho is a pre-med and Geonhak double majors in education and psych. They’re both very busy, often overwhelmingly so around midterms and finals. That’s why they began their arrangement in the first place. Horny, overachieving college kids need their stress relief. They’ve never been exclusive, they’re still cool, and there are no strings attached. 

Well. It’s not just sex. Seoho visits Geonhak for much for than that, and they never fail to have a good time when they’re together, regardless of whether or not they end up between the sheets. Sometimes, they play video games, go to the park, or just talk about life, and Seoho always leaves with the same sense of fulfillment. Geonhak’s a good friend, and they like spending time with each other. It’s as simple as that. 

Hwanwoong huffs, kicking off his shoes. “Suit yourself, Seo.”

“Any more of this and I’ll kick you out.” 

“You wouldn’t. You love me.”

“Debatable.” 

But Seoho supposes that kicking him out wouldn’t do much. Given his size, Hwanwoong can probably just slip through a crack underneath the door. When he voices this out loud, a very angry Hwanwoong chases him across the flat. 

* * *

A few days pass. Seoho’s professors have been swamping him with work (he does not know what an osteoblast is and at this point, he’s too afraid to ask) and he’s on the verge of collapsing. Like many a college student, his soul slowly begins to slip out of its corporeal host. 

One day, after a particularly exhausting day of mocks exams and classwork, Seoho’s feet take him to Geonhak’s place. Because of course they do. 

Geonhak answers the door. Just _ seeing _him makes Seoho feel relieved, but he looks just as bad as him, if not worse. The bags underneath his eyes have begun to consume his face.

“Hey,” Seoho says.

Geonhak grins wryly. “What’s up.”

And Seoho doesn’t stop himself from surging forward to catch Geonhak’s lips in a ferocious kiss.

“Woah,” Geonhak laughs against his mouth. “Someone’s eager.”

Seoho practically eats him up, not paying any heed to the fact that they’re basically standing in the hallway and that anyone can see them. He kisses him filthy, and Geonhak kisses back with the same gusto.

Without parting, Geonhak pulls him into the apartment. They travel across the living room and end up in Geonhak’s room. Thankfully, Youngjo isn’t in the apartment, but he’d probably be coming home soon. It’s fine, though. They’ll just have to keep it down after a bit.

Geonhak closes the door behind him.

“I’m so,” Seoho gasps after they part, “_ fucking _ tired.”

Geonhak tips his head to the side. “Doesn’t seem like it,” he teases, “you’re full of energy.”

Seoho grinds up against his crotch, which shuts him up with a moan. He’s already half-hard, but it’s not like Seoho’s faring any better.

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

And he does. Geonhak surges forward to meet him in the middle, kissing him so hard that his teeth draw blood. Seoho, of course, responds in kind. Slowly, he pushes Geonhak down into the bed and pins him against the mattress.

Seoho shoots a quick text to Hwanwoong to let him know he won’t be coming home for the night. For some reason, Hwanwoong never opens it, but that’s quite alright. 

* * *

Geonhak’s snoring wakes him up. Apparently, Seoho’s alarm had failed to go off. Again. This is why he rarely stays the night.

With a sigh, Seoho shakes off Geonhak’s arms, gets up, and picks his clothes off of the floor, taking care to make sure that they’re his clothes and not Geonhak’s. He has a lab block later in the day, and his clothes aren’t quite suitable, but there’s still quite a bit of time left. 

Apparently, Youngjo hadn’t come home yet. There were no signs that he’d dropped by at all, in fact, with the apartment being the same way they had left it-- his shoes are still gone, the dishes haven’t been done, and the kitchenware remains untouched. Maybe he’s in his room. Maybe he got home late.

When Seoho reaches his apartment door, he hears chattering coming from inside. Strange. Does Hwanwoong have a visitor?

He opens it. Suddenly, it becomes apparent why Hwanwoong never responded to his text, why Youngjo never came home. Who should be on the couch but Youngjo himself, with Hwanwoong curled up in his arms, chattering excitedly about his choreo projects. Youngjo listens to him attentively with stars in his eyes. When Hwanwoong spots Seoho, he stops.

“Uh-”

Hwanwoong looks at the ground. “Well. This is awkward.”

“So.” Seoho gestures at the two of them. “How long has this been going on?”

“Couple of weeks now,” Youngjo says cheerily, holding Hwanwoong closer. Hwanwoong squirms a bit, and that prompts him to let go. 

“Cool.” Seoho walks past them, changes in his room, takes his coat from the couch, and leaves. It’s great, really-- Youngjo’s a good guy. Hwanwoong deserves the best. But his head is buzzing, he’s lethargic. He can’t deal with this right now.

* * *

The lab goes aright. Keonhee’s always been a good partner, but he’s prone to screaming and hiding away in a corner when they do organ dissections. This time, Seoho delegates him to observation duty, and thankfully, nothing goes terribly wrong. Seoho returns to the flat at a late hour. The sun’s still out, but it’s beginning to set, painting the sky with fiery colors. 

“Dude,” Seoho says, closing the door behind him. “You’re sleeping with Youngjo? You never told me.”

Hwanwoong puts his pencil down. Apparently, he’s also been swamped with work. Seriously, what’s with profs and cramming all the coursework in just before the break? It’s borderline inhumane. 

“Okay, first of all, we’ve only slept together like. Twice.”

Seoho raises his eyebrows. “So--”

“Yes, Seoho. There are feelings involved.” Hwanwoong keeps writing. “I like him. I do things with him, fully clothed, in daylight hours.”

There’s another awkward pause.

“We’re dating,” Hwanwoong clarifies.

“Yeah. I got it.”

It’s weird to wrap his head around, but Seoho thinks this may have been how the rest of them felt when he and Geonhak began their. Arrangement. Youngjo and Hwanwoong are two of his closest friends, and although he knows that they’ve always had a _ thing _ for each other, it still feels strange to know that they’re together now. Not official, necessarily, but _ together _. However--

“Cool,” Seoho hums. They’ll be good for each other. He has nothing to worry about. “I’m happy for you, Woong. He’s a great guy.”

Hwanwoong smiles a smile so bright that it’s like he’s glowing. 

“He really is,” he says. There’s a dreamy look on his face. Strangely, that makes Seoho's heart ache a bit.

Daylight hours, huh?

* * *

🐣: hey sunshine

🐣: wanna do smth later?

🐿️: sure!!!

🐿️: arcade?

🐣: let's do it

🐣: ill pick u up at 6?

🐿️: bet ^^

* * *

“Seoho! Your boytoy’s here!”

Hwanwoong tosses Seoho’s jacket at him. It lands squarely on his face.

“For _ fuck’s _sake--”

“So.” Hwanwoong looks around incredulously. “Is he here to visit, or are you leaving? Because if not, I’m getting out of here.”

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” Seoho fights out of his jacket and scrambles to put it on. “We’re going to the arcade.”

Hwanwoong raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Seoho shoots him a warning glance.

“Not a word, Yeo Hwanwoong. Not a word.”

As Seoho leaves, Hwanwoong immediately takes his phone out and taps in a number. He’s probably shooting Youngjo a booty call. It’s become a common occurrence these days. Hwanwoong does everything he can to drive Seoho out of the apartment so that he could have Youngjo over, which is fine by Seoho because he usually goes to Geonhak’s place anyway. 

Geonhak’s waiting for him outside. Thankfully, he shows no indication that he heard any of the exchange. 

“You ready?” He asks, smiling his million-dollar smile, the one that reaches his eyes.

Geonhak has an easy fashion sense. The man has taste, but usually, his outfits are down-to-earth and comfortable. Today, however, he seems to have made an exception-- his shirt is tucked neatly into his tightest pair of jeans, paired with his nicest pair of sneakers. Several earrings hang from his ears. He’s also wearing a leather jacket; it’s unzipped, but Seoho thinks that it might have been a bit of an overkill in this heat. 

But there’s no denying that he looks good. _ Really _good. If Seoho hadn’t known any better, he would have thought that he’s all dolled up for a date. It makes him feel like he’s a tiny bit underdressed, although he’d be lying if he said he didn’t dress up for this as well.

Seoho returns his smile. “Let’s go.”

The arcade just off of campus is a short walk away. It’s a relatively slow day, but the place has always been a hotspot for students from their university, so it’s always far from empty. It’s dark when they step inside, illuminated only by the dancing neon lights on the ceiling and the screens of game machines. Seoho shuffles closer to Geonhak, afraid that they may lose each other in here. Yes, that’s the only reason.

Something seems to catch Geonhak’s eye. He points at a machine.

“Bet I can beat you at racing.”

Seoho scoffs. “Bet you can’t.”

He can, and he does. Multiple times, because Seoho demands several rematches. It proves to be a fruitless effort. 

Man. Maybe it does pay to have a drivers’ license. 

Seoho tugs at Geonhak’s sleeve. “Street fighter. Let’s play that.”

Geonhak smiles and follows him. “Bet I can still beat you.”

“Bet you can’t.”

This time, Seoho is right. By the time they’re through their sixth or seventh game, Geonhak’s breathing heavily, and Seoho has barely broken a sweat. The secret, Seoho discovers, is to learn the secret combos. Most people don’t know them these days.

Geonhak, too, demands several rematches. That, too, is a fruitless effort. 

“I think we’re tied!” Seoho announces triumphantly. “Eight to eight. Come on, wanna play another?”

Geonhak scowls. “Street fighter? No way. That’s not fair. Let’s play another round of racing.”

“That’s not fair either.”

“Then…” Geonhak hesitates, then points at the claw machine. “I bet I can win you one of those.”

The machine is stuffed to the brim with Pikachu toys. Some are wearing detective hats, some are wearing little berets, and some are even wearing Santa hats. (it’s summer.) 

“You know those things are rigged,” Seoho scoffs, although he does want one very badly.

But Geonhak, of course, does it anyway. 

After no less than seventeen (Seoho counted) tries, Geonhak miraculously succeeds. 

“Told you,” he says with a grin, shoving the Pikachu into Seoho’s arms. Seoho makes sure to hold Pikachu as tightly as he possibly can.

“You’re right. You win, Geonhak.” Seoho grins, bumping Geonhak with his shoulder. “You’re the best.”

That makes Geonhak look away, and-- Is he blushing? 

After the arcade, they pay a visit to the park. It’s already late into the afternoon, but the place is still filled with people on evening walks-- predominantly, couples. Seoho tries not to think about it too much.

“I’m buying us cotton candy,” Seoho announces. “We’ll share.”

“But--”

“You just spent thirty bucks on a claw machine, Doya. It’s the least I can do.”

The cotton candy is much too sweet for Seoho’s taste, but Geonhak enjoys it thoroughly. And really, at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.

A while passes. They walk and chat. It’s friendly, familiar, and just _ nice _. The sun begins to set over the park. At some point, Geonhak had taken his hand.

They’re holding hands.

Seoho internally screams.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Geonhak nods into the distance. “The sunset, I mean.”

Geonhak suddenly looks over at him. Rays of sunlight gently touch highlights in his hair, and it looks like he has a halo. It lights up his smile, too-- he’s practically radiant. Seoho feels a breath catch in his throat and _ prays _that the colors of the sunset hide the red on his face. 

_ Not as pretty as you _, he wants to say. But doesn’t.

“It is.” 

They’re hanging out as friends, right? Friends with benefits, but they’re still friends. It’s normal for friends to hang out together. It’s normal for friends to hold hands.

RIght?

(Seoho really, _ really _wants to spend more time with Geonhak in the daylight. But that’s purely on a friendly basis, right?)

* * *

Seoho's hard work pays off and the midterm goes well-- he ends up passing with flying colors.

They’re a few days into spring break now. His workload has, thankfully, drastically decreased, but Hwanwoong still comments on how wound up he’s been. 

“Come on, Seo. You need to let loose a little,” he says to him while they’re both chilling in the apartment. Seoho’s busy trying to sort out his things from the term-- his desk has gotten so, so messy. 

“Hey,” Hwanwoong shouts when he realizes that Seoho isn’t even remotely listening. When that doesn’t work either, he throws his sock at him. 

Seoho looks at it and tosses it away with an appalled expression. 

“Dude, not cool.”

“San’s hosting a party tonight.” Hwanwoong picks up his sock and puts it in his laundry hamper. “You’re coming with me.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you love me,” Hwanwoong says. “And because San throws some bomb ass parties. Seriously, you gotta stop thinking about school.”

“Love you? That’s debatable.” 

But this is nothing new. Dorm parties aren’t usually Seoho’s thing. Hwanwoong, on the other hand, frequents them. They do, after all, involve dancing, and Yeo Hwanwoong would never pass up a chance to flex his skills. As a consequence, Seoho is often dragged along as his plus one. 

Seoho caves. Hwanwoong’s right. A night of drinking and socializing would do far more good for him than harm. 

* * *

Before Seoho knew it, he’s weaving his way around a crowd of dancing bodies, sweat beading on his forehead. There’s music being blasted from the stereo system and the bass resonates through his ears. He’s already on his third or fourth drink, having lost Hwanwoong about two drinks ago. The guy’s probably already on the floor dancing up a storm.

San and Wooyoung live in the same building, just two floors down. Sometimes, Seoho meets San on the way to the science building, bumps into Wooyoung at the convenience store. They’ve also met at several parties. 

Apparently, Geonhak’s also here. Seoho could’ve sworn he saw him in the living room, but at the time, he was on his way to pour himself another drink. By the time he’d turned around, Geonhak was already long gone.

After trying and failing to reunite with Hwanwoong, Seoho finds San laughing in the kitchen. Mingi’s sitting on a countertop next to him, and Wooyoung’s leaning up against a fridge. Their conversation is muffled by the music pulsating through the room. San’s the one who spots him first.

“Hey, Seoho.” San shoots him a lazy smile. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Seoho nods back. “Wouldn’t miss it. Lovely place, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

Mingi pours the four of them another drink. Seoho downs it in a couple of sips. 

“Have any of you seen Geonhak anywhere?” 

San shrugs. “Beats me.” 

“I saw him with Juyeon earlier,” Wooyoung chimes in. “I think he took him home.”

San shoots Seoho a strange glance. “Wait. Aren’t you, like, _ with _Geonhak?”

“Oooooofff,” Mingi says emphatically, swirling his drink with a finger.

“No,” Seoho says, faking a smile and lowkey dying inside.

“We’ve got a thing, but we aren’t like. Together.” Seoho tips his head. “He’s entitled to do whatever he wants.”

“Oh.” San raises an eyebrow. “Cool.” Is that skepticism in his voice?

“Still an oof,” Mingi adds helpfully before jumping off the countertop. “I’m gonna go find Hwanwoong.”

So. Geonhak and Juyeon. He supposes that it could be worse. 

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. Seoho tries to convince himself that it’s alright, that he’s alright, downing a couple more drinks and maybe kissing Yonghoon? He doesn’t remember. 

All Seoho can think about is Geonhak's smug grin when he won him the stuffed animal at the arcade, the way his hands felt in his own while they walked at the park. The way the sun had shone on his hair and the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at him. Seoho wonders if it had all meant nothing.

But what right does Seoho have to want more from him? He’s been far too much of a coward to tell him anything.

This is so stupid. So much for no feelings being involved. So much for _ non-exclusivity _. Seoho downs another drink and tries to disappear into the music, tries to dissolve into the crowd and lose himself in the party. At some point, Hwanwoong finds him again, and Seoho is left with the vague memory of stumbling on the younger’s shoulders on the way home.

* * *

🐣: come over.

* * *

The text gives Seoho shivers.

He’s at the cafe when he receives it, waiting in line to get his daily iced americano. As soon as he reads it, he practically sprints over to Geonhak’s place, iced americano be damned. 

Thankfully, Youngjo isn’t home. Geonhak answers the door and beckons him inside without a word. 

It’s strange. Usually, they’d talk, chat, quip, and banter, but Geonhak seems to be in a bit of a mood. He leads Seoho to his room in silence. When they’re both on the bed, the silence becomes deafening. Geonhak doesn’t kiss him, doesn’t touch him, but simply _ stares _. Eventually, he reaches out hesitantly and brushes Seoho’s hair away from his face. It should be familiar, shouldn’t be anything new, but Seoho couldn’t help but tremble at the contact.

“Can I--”

“Go for it,” Seoho tells him without hesitating. At this point, he just wants Geonhak to do _ something _.

With that, Geonhak begins to unbutton the top of Seoho’s shirt. There’s another stretch of uncomfortable silence. 

“Stressed?” Seoho asks. Then, with an odd stroke of confidence, he shoots Geonhak a wink. “Wanna boss me around this time?”

Geonhak’s hands tighten, clenching onto the material of Seoho’s shirt. He doesn’t respond.

And even when Seoho’s all shirtless and vulnerable in front of him, even when Seoho knows that his eyes are practically _begging _him to do so, Geonhak still doesn’t kiss him. Instead, he stands up and turns off the lights. The darkness brings a strange sense of impersonality to the situation. Seoho is beginning to think that it’s exactly what Geonhak wants.

* * *

“I want to stop this.”

“What?”

Geonhak puts his phone down, pulls the sheets closer to himself, and sighs. 

“This.” He gestures at Seoho, then at himself. At everything.

Every hair on Seoho’s body stands up. Something cold runs down his spine. Of course. He should have seen this coming. 

“Did you meet someone?” Seoho ventures. 

Geonhak just looks down, slowly sinking into the bed as if he’s trying to disappear. 

“You should have told me this was the last time,” Seoho muses when he doesn’t respond. He’s trying to tease, but his voice comes out rather. Cold. And bitter. “I would’ve been louder. I would’ve professed my love for y--”

“Seoho.” Geonhak’s voice cracks and Seoho falls silent. “I’m. I’m sorry. It was fun.” 

He should’ve known that this was a goodbye. He suspected it, but he should’ve known. The way Geonhak didn’t even kiss him _ once _, the way his gaze was almost as light and cautious as his featherlight touches. It’s rather funny. It’s funny, but Seoho can’t quite bring himself to laugh. 

Seoho stands up to collect all his clothes strewn on the floor. 

So. This is it.

He knows that they’ll still be friends. At least, they _ should _be. The point of an arrangement like this is that it’s sex with no strings attached, that it could be discontinued at any time without either party being upset. That was the idea. But here they both are-- they tried to discontinue it, and now Geonhak’s on the verge of tears and Seoho’s feeling just a little bit dead inside. Both loose strings. It’s funny. 

“Goodbye, Doya,” Seoho whispers when he’s at the door. Geonhak says nothing. 

So he leaves.

* * *

Seoho no longer knows where he can go. His feet attempt to take him back to Geonhak’s, but he manages to steer himself over to Keonhee and Dongju’s place instead.

It’s always been a nice place to visit. It feels clean, normal, their company is exactly what Seoho needs at the moment; Keonhee welcomes him as if he’s their third roommate, beckoning him inside and letting him lie on the couch. It’s a rare privilege-- Keonhee isn’t usually one to allow feet on the furniture. 

Dongju makes him coffee, placing the mug carefully down on the table in front of him.

“So,” he says, pursing his lips. “Wanna tell me what’s up?”

“Nothing, really,” Seoho says. He doesn’t expect either of them to buy this. There are tear stains on his cheeks.

Keonhee blinks, taking a seat on the armchair across from him.

“Did you break up with Geonhak?” He asks. And that’s just like Keonhee. Blunt, tactless, and insufferably sharp.

“Again, we were never dating.”

Dongju rolls his eyes. “Did you stop engaging in special activities with your special friend?”

“Yeah. Well. He broke it off.” Seoho sulkily takes a sip of his coffee. “Not that it matters because there are zero feelings involved.”

Keonhee looks at him pointedly. “Right.”

Right?

* * *

Seoho had fully expected them to continue to be friends, but Geonhak continues to be as distant as the night they broke it off. His messages are short and clipped, he never calls him, they haven’t hung out in weeks, and everything is just. Strange. Seoho didn’t expect anything to change, besides the lack of sex, but everything. Changes.

One day, Geonhak just stops answering his texts altogether.

“You’re being a downer,” Hwanwoong complains, lazily flicking a draw four card into the pile. Seoho shoots him a dirty glance, but he reluctantly picking his cards out of the deck, sighing loudly. 

“Maybe if Geonhak would stop avoiding me.”

Hwanwoong shrugs. “Why don’t you meet someone new? It’ll help you forget about him. Just for a bit.” 

“The color is green, by the way.”

“Fuck you.”

He does not have any greens. Not even after drawing his four cards. It’s a cruel world, and Uno is a cruel game.

* * *

After another day or two of moping, Seoho decides to take initiative and _ address _his feelings. (By that, he means that he will take steps in an attempt to distract himself.) He goes to a bar nearby, taking a few shots and having a few stints on the dance floor.

Rather surreptitiously, he meets someone with bright eyes and a good sense of humor. His hair is light, but it appears in a variety of different colors under the club’s neon lights. Eventually, after eyeing him for longer than what may be deemed normal, Seoho learns that it’s a mesmerizing shade of light blue. 

They click. The person introduces himself as Yunho, and Seoho introduces himself in kind. Yunho buys him a drink and, before either of them knew it, they’re kissing in the alleyway behind the club.

It gets a bit heated, a bit messy. Seoho grabs Yunho by his hair, and Yunho has a hand on Seoho’s waist.

But something lurches in Seoho’s stomach. As he feels Yunho’s teeth on his lips, feels him slowly edge closer and drive him towards the wall, he begins to feel like throwing up.

“Wait,” Seoho gasps. Stop.

Yunho lets him go. Seoho immediately falls to his knees.

“I’m sorry,” Seoho says. “I’m sorry, but I just. I can’t.”

“It’s alright, it’s all good,” Yunho has a gentle smile on his lips, and that _ hurts _Seoho because. Because he thinks he could’ve liked him, thinks that he would’ve given him a chance. But. 

Yunho helps Seoho to his feet. “Should I walk you home?” He asks, because of course he does. Of course he’s _ nice _too. There is plenty of fish in the sea, but Seoho somehow has his heart fixated on some emotionally distant salmon who hasn’t even bothered to talk to him for the past two weeks or so.

“No," Seoho says, clinging to Yunho’s arm for support. “It's fine. I’ll be fine. Thanks for the drink, Yunho."

He struggles to find his footing.

And then, without sparing a glance behind him, he runs off.

* * *

Like so many times before this, Seoho ends up in front of Geonhak’s apartment. Like so many times before, it’s late at night. Moths circle the light above his head. It’s familiar, he knows the patterns of scratches on the wall and the welcome mat’s design like the back of his hand, but there’s something odd, something foreign about all this. 

Seoho knows he shouldn’t be here. Against his better judgment, he knocks on the door.

Geonhak does not answer. Instead, it’s Youngjo, dressed in his cat pajamas and holding a cup of coffee.

“What are you doing here?”

Seoho closes his eyes. He doesn’t have a reason. Might as well lay it bare. “Is Geonhak here? Is he okay?”

“He’s out,” Youngjo says vaguely, beckoning for Seoho to come in.

“Where?”

“The gym.”

Seoho steps through the door and takes a seat at the table. Somehow, the apartment’s different. It’s clean, almost unsettlingly so; as if it hasn’t really been lived in. There’s a strange and uncanny lack of Geonhak’s things.

“He’s rarely been home,” Youngjo explains, setting a tray down in front of Seoho. “Cookies?”

Seoho gloomily takes one. “He hasn’t been answering my texts.”

To that, Youngjo sighs.

“I really don’t know, Youngjo. I thought he would be happy. I really want him to be happy.” Seoho slumps down onto the table, his head hitting the wood hard. “I want to be happy for him, you know?”

Youngjo frowns. “Happy? What do you mean?”

“Yeah. Because he met someone.” Seoho looks up, and Youngjo’s eyes are wide, bewildered. “The Juyeon boy?”

“What? He never told me.”

Well. That’s strange. Of all the people to know, Seoho would’ve thought that Youngjo would be damn near the top. He knows Geonhak better than pretty much anyone in the world. In hindsight, Seoho should’ve taken this as a huge red flag.

“Weird.” Seoho taps his fingers on the table. “Does he seem happy, though?”

“Quite the opposite.” Youngjo looks away, eyes distant. “He hasn’t really been himself.”

That’s even weirder. Have they broken up already?

But why hadn’t Geonhak texted him? At all?

Seoho takes another cookie and slumps down onto the table again.

“These are really good, Youngjo.”

“I’m glad.” Youngjo’s lips curl into a kittenish smile. Then, he reaches over and pats Seoho on his back. “Sit up straight, child. You’ll hurt your spine.”

* * *

**82 *** ******: we need to talk.

* * *

It’s raining in the park, and Seoho’s wearing sneakers. His socks are wet. He’s miserable.

They’ve agreed to meet underneath a tree next to the path, so that’s where Seoho is. He did not imagine that this spot would be so. Muddy. 

There’s a sense of poetic justice to it; this is the spot where Seoho and Geonhak had ended their last ‘date’. It hasn’t been long, but it feels like an eternity and a half has passed since then. The day they laughed together, played together, talked about nothing important and made meaningless bets. The Pikachu toy that Geonhak won for Seoho still sits on the corner of his bed, mournfully silent and largely undisturbed.

Suddenly, Seoho hears the sound of footsteps in the rain.

“Why?” He says out loud. 

The footsteps stop.

Seoho turns around. Geonhak’s wearing a hood over his head, his eyes downcast. As if he’s afraid to look at him. As if he’s _ ashamed _, after all this. He almost laughs. Not at Geonhak, but at himself. At how he let Geonhak make him feel this way.

“Why did you break it off, Doya?” Seoho tries to control his tone, but his voice wavers. “No messages. No calls. Left on read. It’s been a _ week _.”

And still, Geonhak refuses to meet his eyes.

“I thought it was because you met someone.” Seoho steps forward. “But I don’t think that’s the whole story.”

Geonhak finally, finally looks up. And when their eyes finally meet, Seoho feels a pang in his stomach. He looks so sad. So scared. So small. He wants nothing more than to just run forward and hug him, hold him in his arms, but…

“Seoho,” Geonhak says, drawing out each syllable. “Our arrangement was never supposed to involve feelings.”

Seoho clenches his fist. Of course that’s what he says. Of course that’s what his mind jumps to. Their arrangement isn’t supposed to involve feelings, therefore, Seoho doesn’t have feelings of his own, apparently. Like they aren’t even supposed to give a hoot about each other at all. Like that’s how this is supposed to work.

“It’s not just the arrangement,” Seoho seethes. “It’s not like we had no strings at all, Geonhak. You’re my friend. You can stop being my special activities friend, but you’ll always be my friend. And you can’t just fucking cut me off without a word.”

Geonhak furrows his brows. “Special activities friend?”

Seoho rolls his eyes. “The point is, I care about you.” He steps forward and takes Geonhak’s hand. Geonhak winces.

And there were supposed to be no feelings, but Seoho’s heart aches. He misses waking up with Geonhak by his side, misses the feeling of Geonhak’s lips on his skin. Misses their conversations, misses their inside jokes, their pillow talk. He misses the feeling of security that comes with Geonhak’s arms around his waist. 

Geonhak looks away.

“I caught feelings,” he mumbles, voice so low that Seoho hardly hears him.

Still, Seoho tenses, not quite believing his ears. “What?”

“I caught feelings, Seoho,” This time, Geonhak spits his words out like venom. “I like you.” He squeezes Seoho’s hand so tight that Seoho feels like his knuckles are beginning to crack.

“I like you, Seoho, and our relationship isn’t supposed to involve feelings, so I thought ...I thought…”

Rain crashes down on the sidewalk. A bout of thunder crackles in the distance.

“How long?”

“Months,” Geonhak says. He takes a shaky breath, then starts to laugh. “I’ve liked you for months, but I didn’t realize it.”

Seoho looks at him. He thinks about all the times Geonhak’s told him he loves him, all the drunken confessions, all the late nights they’ve shared. About all the times he thought he was joking. (And about all the times he secretly hoped he wasn’t.)

“What about Juyeon?” Seoho asks, glancing at the ground. “I thought you were seeing him.”

And it’s stupid, how that had made Seoho feel. They weren’t supposed to be exclusive. There weren’t supposed to be any feelings, any strings between them-- that was what they had agreed on. And yet.

And yet here they are, standing together in thunder and rain like it’s the emotional climax of some cliche drama. Here they are, both on the edge of bursting into tears like their eyes are rain clouds in the sky. Here they are, realizing that they’ve been in love with each other for literal months without noticing it themselves. They’re both booboo the fools.

Geonhak closes his eyes. This is when Seoho realizes that they’re still holding hands. Geonhak’s grip is no longer that tight-- now it’s gentle, feather-light and barely there, but it still comfortably denotes his presence. 

And then Geonhak chuckles, the sound like music in the midst of the storm. There’s nothing cold, nothing bitter, nothing sarcastic about it. It’s just Geonhak laughing like he always does, and that warms Seoho’s heart a bit.

“I guess I wanted to prove something,” he says. “I went home with him because. I thought it would be the same. And it wasn’t the same.

I couldn’t, Seoho. I couldn’t do that to myself. I ran off.” He sucks in a breath. “And. That was when I realized how bad I had it.”

A ghost of a smile creeps its way onto Seoho’s lips. Talk about deja vu. Silently, he apologizes to Yunho. And to Juyeon, on Geonhak’s behalf. This whole thing has been such a mess.

Seoho holds out a hand to Geonhak and waits-- an invitation. Geonhak freezes, hesitating for so long that rain begins to pool in the palm of his hand. 

“Let’s go.”

And Seoho, growing impatient, takes Geonhak by the hand and leads him away.

The sun’s out. A rainbow appears in the distance.

* * *

“You should have told me,” Seoho murmurs against Geonhak’s lips. _ But I should have told you, too. _

There are tears running down Geonhak’s face. Seoho knows this because he tastes them on his tongue, saline and bitter. And, of course, Geonhak doesn’t speak. He just cries, and his entire body shakes in Seoho’s arms, against Seoho’s chest.

“Keep the lights on,” Seoho tells him. And they do.

It's different. Geonhak ravishes him. He goes slow, draws out Seoho's name like it's a word of power, thrusts into him at a steady pace as if he's savoring every last moment, every movement. Seoho holds him close, stroking his face, running his hands through his hair and whispering sweet nothings, muttered reassurances interrupted by heady gasps and wanton cries. 

Geonhak looks at him with parted lips and furrowed brows. All Seoho can think about is how pretty he is, how gorgeous he is with the lights on. And maybe he’s in love. It’s different, it’s strange, and it’s. Good. It’s so, so good.

They finish together, with Geonhak's name on Seoho's tongue and vice versa. 

“I like you,” Geonhak tells him, a dopey grin stretched wide on his face. “I really, really like you.”

Seoho smiles. He leans in close, bumps their foreheads together. They’re so close that he can see his reflection in Geonhak’s eyes.

“I like you too,” he says, but that’s a lie. _ Like _doesn’t even cut it anymore. He’s already head over heels for this man. “Let’s start over.” 

Seoho has to try his best to stop Geonhak from crying again.

* * *

It’s game night again. Hwanwoong’s laughing against Youngjo’s chest, and Youngjo holds him, running his fingers through his hair. Consequently, everyone could see Youngjo’s deck, which for some reason lay face-up on the table. What a loser. 

Keonhee plays _ another _draw two-- that makes three, which means six cards-- on Dongju, all while laughing so boisterously that Seoho worries that they’ll get complaints from their neighbors for that alone. Dongju seethes, glaring daggers at everyone in the room. 

“I’ll kill you all.”

As for Seoho, he’s lounging in Geonhak’s lap. When Geonhak laughs, he _ feels _it, and it’s like his entire world is shaking. 

“I’d like to see you try,” Geonhak says, to which Dongju glares at him even more intently. 

Geonhak puts down his card, skipping Hwanwoong’s turn so that Seoho may take his, and Seoho puts down a three. Youngjo changes the color to yellow, which earns a scandalized gasp out of Hwanwoong-- he doesn’t have any yellows. Two types of couples in this world. 

And Seoho looks up at Geonhak-- his _ boyfriend _, and smiles. Geonhak pulls him closer, kisses the top of his head.

“I’m glad we gave this a try,” Seoho tells him sleepily.

Geonhak grins in return. “I’m glad I have you.”

Someone from the couch makes a very loud and obnoxious gagging noise. It’s Hwanwoong. Of course it’s Hwanwoong.

“Unbelievable. You two are somehow even grosser than before.”

Notably, he’s still pressed up against Youngjo.

Seoho flicks a reverse card at him. It hits him in the face. 

* * *

Seoho’s eyes flutter awake. To his delight, they meet Geonhak’s sleeping face.

**Author's Note:**

> me vs writing fics about seodo being oblivious idiots
> 
> but then. like. am i wrong?
> 
> catch me on [twt](https://twitter.com/toemoon) and scream abt oneus w me ty


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